


Operation Confession (Dimitri x F!Reader)

by Stellaurum



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Spoilers, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reader-Insert, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellaurum/pseuds/Stellaurum
Summary: What happens when a certain Gautier meddles in the love affairs of a prince?Well-intentioned chaos.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Reader, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/You
Comments: 21
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so sorry for the inactivity! i’ve been super busy preparing for college n stuff, so i didn’t really have time to write anything... but like i also didn’t want to go *another* week of not posting anything so lol
> 
> i’ve been working on this fic for almost a month now and as i was approaching the 5000 words mark, i figured it would probably be best to chop it up into more.... manageable sections ^^’ please enjoy~
> 
> spoiler-free and pre-timeskip fluff!

Oh, this was _perfect_.

Sylvain watched in pure amusement at the scene playing out before his very eyes. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, reduced to nothing more than a blushing schoolboy antsy with the love bugs ~~and raging hormones.~~ He weakly disguised his chuckle with a cough when he saw _yet another_ quill snap in the blonde’s hand _,_ most likely in reaction to that adorable pouting face you had put up _._ You had absolutely no idea what type of effect and the severity of said effect you had on the prince.

Which made it all the more entertaining.

You didn’t mean to-- in fact, you weren’t even aware of the raging feelings Dimitri held towards you.

But Sylvain knew.

And you could bet your ass he was gonna do everything in his power to help his longtime friend man up and confess to the girl of his dreams.

Dimitri’s cheeks, once dusted with only a faint pink, suddenly became a hodgepodge of every shade of red when he realized that was the third quill he broke in this hour _alone_. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, helplessly looking to his teacher for help.

“Your Highness... Have you broken another quill?” Dedue murmured beside him, concern eminent in his voice. Dimitri looked down at the large splinter running down its side and mentally banged his head against the desk.

“It appears so... I will request a replacement from the Professor.” He muttered back, silently rising to his feet and making his way to the desk up front. He was suddenly stopped on his 4-step journey when Byleth (with a crinkle in their nose and a sigh) redirected their frazzled student to a whole box of spare quills behind the blackboard. Dimitri-- very much aware that this box filled with ludicrous amounts of quills were entirely for him-- bowed deeply to the professor, picked up the feathery thing, and hurried back to his desk.

You looked up from your work to give your eyes a break from their swimming lessons and accidentally made eye contact with the returning prince. You both paused for a split second before you flashed him a heartfelt smile; a gentle warmth kissed the surface of your cheeks and you averted your eyes back to your studies.

A resounding _snap_ reverberated throughout the quiet classroom.

“Dimitri?”

“Y-Yes, Professor?”

“See me after class.”

“Yes, Professor...”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

While the rest of the class huddled outside the door and watched their house leader write “I will not break another quill” line after line on the blackboard, Sylvain looped an arm around your waist and winked.

“Hey, (F/N). Mind if I steal you for a bit?”

“Um... Sure.” Wary of his skirt-chasing tendencies, you were reluctantly led away from your classmates and into a more secluded part of the monastery.

“This better not be one of your tricks again, Sylvain... I already told you, I don’t like you in that way.”

“Ouch. That hurt.” Sylvain’s lips formed into an exaggerated pout and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Nah, this ain’t about me for once. It’s about a certain... someone.” He continued rather vaguely.

“A certain someone? Sylvain, are you sure this isn’t about you?”

“It’s really not, I swear.” He put his hands up in surrender and seeing him genuine for once, you decided to believe him.

“Well, before I continue, I just wanna know if you... y’know.” Sylvain’s eyebrows wriggled very suggestively and a teasing smirk splayed his features. Your heart thundered in your ear, already knowing where this was going.

“If I...?” You whispered, taut fingers knotting the fabric of your uniform.

“Like, like-like anyone?”

Sylvain wished with all his heart that he had some way to capture the look and flood of colors that quickly took hold of your face. He watched in silent amazement as your face shifted from a barely-there pink to strawberry red in a matter of seconds. Gotcha.

“W-Well, I mean--” You took a shaky step backwards and your jaw clenched so tightly you were certain you were gonna chip a tooth. “There _is_ this guy... Wait, why am I telling you this?! It’s none of your business!”

You rammed past the tall male with enough force to almost knock him over as you promptly made your way back to where the rest of your classmates were.

Satisfied with the laughable drop in quality in Dimitri’s penmanship, Byleth finally let the poor male join his classmates outside. His fingers twitched in an unsightly fashion and his wrist throbbed and cricked with every motion he made. He let out a guttural groan, making small, crackling adjustments to his neck and shoulder. The only thing he had left to do today was train, but he’d probably just go ahead and retire to his bed, at least for a little while...

Past the sea of heads crowding around him, he saw a flash of (H/C) streak across his vision, followed shortly afterwards by a head of shaggy red. (F/N)...? What were you doing with Sylvain?

Crippling exhaustion transfigured into searing jealousy and his eyes narrowed at his childhood friend with cold suspicion. Sylvain could easily feel the scorned prince’s hard stare like a knife in the back.

Was he at all fazed? Not in the slightest.

In fact, thought Sylvain as he sidled right up next to you, he wanted to toy with Dimitri’s heart just a _little_ bit more... 

“Excuse me everyone, but I must speak to Sylvain _immediately_.” He emphasized the last word sharply, gently pushing his way through the crowd. While he brushed shoulders with Ashe and waltzed around Ingrid, he spun around and ended up face-to-face with... Oh Goddess, his legs were turning into jelly.

“Dimitri...? Is something wrong?” You breathed, fumbling with your clammy digits.

“O-Oh!” Said male rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Nothing, Belov-- (F/N). Please excuse me, but it is imperative that I have a little... talk, with Sylvain.”

He left you no room for response as he quickly latched onto the toothy-grinned noble and practically dragged him away on his heels.

“What seems to be the problem, Your Highness?”

“Let us discuss the issue in my quarters.”

“Your quarters? Oh ho ho.~”

“Stop it, Sylvain. ... We’re here now.”

Dimitri watched Sylvain plop on the edge of his bed, his lips upturned in a carefree fashion. Dimitri lowered himself on his uncomfortable desk chair, his hands anxiously squeezing his kneecaps.

“So what would you like to talk about, Your Highness?”

“It’s about (F/N).” Dimitri spoke resolutely. “Sylvain... I know this will sound nothing short of mad, but--”

“Let me guess. You like (F/N).”

Dimitri’s bodily organs ceased to function; every ounce of blood in his body mutated into sharp, prickling icicles that seized his heart in a snare of terror and dread.

“I-- Wait, how--?”

“Your Highness. No offense, but pretty much _everyone_ knows how you feel about her. You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Dimitri? _Not subtle?_ Even after the extraordinary lengths he went through to make sure you remained ignorant of his true feelings for you? His brain filed through each and every interaction he’s had with you, combing through each word and shaky glance and awkward blush exchanged between either of you. Well, sure, he’s no master of disguise, but he wasn’t that bad... right?

While Dimitri’s thoughts remained in utter chaos, Sylvain coolly continued.

“Hey, about that lil’ act earlier... I was just messin’ with you, Your Highness. (F/N)’s a serious cutie, but I’m really not after her. I swear.” Sylvain winked. “Plus, she doesn’t even like me. She actually told me she likes--”

**_“WHO?!”_** Before Sylvain even had time to process-- well, anything-- Dimitri was on his feet rattling the poor noble to and fro, completely forgetting the crippling strength his Crest bestowed him.

“Gah! Stop it! That hurts!” Sylvain cried, trying with all his might to pry Dimitri’s iron grip from his shoulders.

Coherency finally returning, Dimitri immediately unclasped his digits from Sylvain. An expression of apologetic horror shot through his eyes as he stumbled back, back, back against his desk. The chest of both men heaved violently; raspy and hasty apologies slipped out of Dimitri’s lips while pain-stricken groans and a few obscenities raced out of Sylvain’s. 

“I’m so-... I’m so sorry, Sylvain, I-- I’m so, so sorry--”

“Augh, Goddess... You’ve got quite a grip there, Your Highness...” Sylvain chuckled weakly, feeling his skin swell and bruise.

“Allow me to fetch a healer for you!”

“N-No worries... Ugh... Just, I need to talk to you.”

“Sylvain--”

“Please. Seeing you skirt about this issue is far more painful than any bruise you could give me... But I’m not gonna lie, this one comes pretty close.”

Dimitri drew in a deep breath and settled in his desk chair, its wooden legs creaking slightly from his weight. He planted his elbows firmly by his kneecaps and rested his chin on folded hands.

“Lemme ask you a question, Your Highness. Do you truly love (F/N)?”

“Yes.” Dimitri answered unfazed, but suddenly realized the gravity of his response and drooped his eyes towards the floor.

“Then tell her!”

“I... I can’t. I’m afraid I lack the confidence to waltz up to a girl and profess my feelings to her. Especially with what happened to...” Dimitri shivered at the awkwardly painful memory and continued. “Sylvain, what if she doesn’t like me in that way? Then I’d have made a fool of myself in front of everybody. But most importantly, her...”

“Well, since she didn’t tell me exactly _who_ she liked, there’s no surefire way to know...” Sylvain acquiesced. “But I’ve got a real good feeling about this. Trust me! If there’s one thing in the world that I can help you with, it would be something like this.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right...” Dimitri pondered, sighing in defeat. “But regardless of whether she likes me or not, I am unable to simply walk up to her and tell her my feelings. That’s...”

Dimitri trailed off, dejection glossing his pastel blues.

“I don’t deserve someone like her.” He breathed out just above a whisper. Poignancy took hold of Sylvain’s heart after hearing the sincerity in Dimitri’s voice. One look at the despondent royal was enough to tell him how much he believed those words-- how much Dimitri believed that he, a beast stained by blood and vengeance, could never have a beauty as tender and loving as you.

“Hey, come on Your Highness... It’s not fair on your part to be giving yourself so little credit.”

“Sylvain, look at me.” Dimitri cupped his throbbing head in his hands and he growled. “I am a monster. I can not drag someone as pure, lovely, and beautiful as (F/N) into...”

He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

“She deserves someone else-- someone who can bring her true happiness. Someone who’s... not me.”

Sylvain gritted his teeth from the dark and pulverizing atmosphere. Dimitri was spiraling. Further, faster into the void.

“Cheer up, Your Highness!” Sylvain bubbled half-heartedly, desperately trying to reel his friend from the abyss. “You’re a great guy! Hey. Remember when we went out to cull some bandits outta that one village? And some bad guy almost got (F/N)? You managed to swoop in just before that happened! You saved her, Deems. The look of pure adoration and gratitude in her eyes after the battle... It felt good, right?”

“I... suppose.”

“Oh! And remember when (F/N) was having a hard time grasping the concept of that battle formation the other day? Who came in, and spent the rest of their afternoon tutoring her until she could explain why you needed to send the flyers in first?”

“... I did.”

“Yup! And who’s the chivalrous, hard-working leader of the Blue Lions that everyone looks up to?”

“I am.”

“Atta boy, Your Highness! See? You’re a great guy! And the fact that you’re a prince doesn’t hurt your chances either.” Sylvain’s eyebrows danced smugly.

Dimitri’s chest rose and fell in laughter; Sylvain’s eyes lit up like a star. He managed to save him-- at least for now.

“Thank you, Sylvain. I really needed that encouragement. I... I apologize for--”

“No worries, Your Highness. ... I’m just glad I was able to help.” Sylvain clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“Um, Sylvain...”

“Hm?”

“How do I confess to her? Properly?”

Sylvain clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ve got a plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chaos continues as Sylvain further envelops himself in Dimitri's love life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! i felt like i should specify that this is a f!reader. sorry about that. all of my stories have been f!reader and i (waking up in a cold sweat) realized it would prob be better for me to specify that from now on. i’m so sorry for not putting it earlier! from now on, i will specify if it is f!reader or not.
> 
> this has got to be one of the longest fics i have ever written (this chapter alone pushing slightly past 5000 words). i am *so* glad i split it up into different chapters. imagine if this was just one big oneshot oh my g
> 
> also, i found some loose inspiration for dimitri’s wardrobe change from be my princess 2′s ivan chernenkov!
> 
> okay, that’s about it. sorry for the long intro! now, please enjoy chapter 2!

“Sylvain...”

“Yeah?”

“Was it truly necessary to tell _everyone_ about my... predicament?”

“I-If I may, Your Highness,” Ashe piped up, “we were already aware of your feelings towards (F/N). You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Everyone-- including Byleth who was grading papers at their desk-- all nodded their head in agreement.

“See?! C’mon, even the Professor noticed the sparks between you two!”

“That’s because they’re Professor Byleth, Sylvain.” Ingrid informed with a sigh.

“Oh yeah. Fair point.”

“Where is (F/N)?” Dimitri queried, not seeing your radiant face among the crowd.

“Well, Mercie and I...” Annette began, her cheeks spreading into a grin. “We pulled a little... prank, on our dear (F/N).”

“A-A prank?”

“Nothing too serious. We just did something that will slow her down.” Mercedes assured sweetly. Sylvain clicked his tongue loudly.

“Don’t worry about her! Remember why we’re all gathered here.”

Murmurs bounced around the attendees; before Dimitri could ask what kind of scheme the redhead roped them into, his loyal retainer announced,

“Your Highness, do you require assistance in confessing to (F/N)?”

Dimitri’s alabaster cheeks were hosed into an assortment of rubies and reds; dismay and horror and dread were all that filled his pretty azure eyes. The veins outlined in his neck and forehead grew sharper and sharper with each uncomfortable squeak that left the prince’s throat.

“Ridiculous. The boar actually has feelings?” Felix spat.

“Yeah. He needs help.” Sylvain answered, ignoring his scowling classmate.

“I-- You-- Sylvain, was this--?”

“My plan? Yeah.”

Dimitri would have killed Sylvain right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of several witnesses.

That didn’t mean he didn’t entertain the idea, though. Sylvain’s cool facade was pierced by the murderously sharp glow in the prince’s eyes.

“Not to worry, Your Highness!” Ashe cheerily interrupted Dimitri’s elaborate scheme of how to grind Sylvain’s kneecaps into a fine powder. “While on our way here, several of us have come up with ideas on how to get you two together!”

“Instead of us all working as one big group, we thought it would be wiser if we split up into smaller groups.” Ingrid mentioned.

“Mercie and I are together of course!” Annette’s eyes glowed excitedly. “After class, we’re gonna stop by the florist to buy (F/N)’s favorite flowers!”

“Why flowers, may I ask?”

“So you can give them to her later tonight!”

“T-Tonight?”

“This is where Ashe and I will lend you our aid.” Dedue stepped forward. “We will help you cook the perfect meal for (F/N).”

“Me? Cook?”

“(F/N) will surely be pleased that you put in the effort to cook her something! No matter the outcome, at least...” Ashe rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“And I suppose this is where we come in.” Ingrid said, motioning to herself, Sylvain, and Felix. “We will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, and will assist each group however way we can.”

“I’ll teach you everything I know when it comes to wooing the ladies.” Sylvain winked.

“I suppose I can serve as the ‘distraction.’ After class, I’ll ask (F/N) to spar with me so that should give you all some time to prepare.” Felix huffed.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind taste-testing the dishes that you prepare... J-Just to make sure (F/N) will like it! We do have similar tastes, so...” Ingrid blushed.

“I myself have devised a way to get you two together,” Byleth stated flatly, “and that starts with a brand new seating chart. I have separated you all into your different squadrons.”

Everyone crowded around the parcel of paper that Byleth spread on the table.

“Dimitri, you sit by (F/N) in the back of the room there. Mercedes and Annette, you sit together towards the front. Ashe, Dedue, in the row beside them. Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix will be sitting in this row, behind Mercedes and Annette. Understood?”

“N-No--”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. In your seats, everyone. If my calculations are correct, (F/N) should be coming in any minute now.”

Dimitri watched in plain confusion as everyone scrambled to their new seats. He automatically looked to Dedue for help, but only saw Ashe taking Dimitri’s usual spot beside the Duscur man. The sounds of curses haphazardly strewn about the vicinity along with an unsettling squelching sound echoed closer and closer to the classroom.

“Quickly now. Dimitri, in your seat.”

_**BANG!!!** _

The doors of the classroom smashed the stone wall with a thundering clap, rattling the slabs of wood on their hinges. You stumbled in, holding a dripping wet boot with one hand and your collection of study materials hastily bundled together in the other. The tousled blob of tangled tresses on the left side of your head starkly contrasted the sorry attempt of brushing on your right. Little leaves stuck out of the collar of your shirt and brown, crackly twigs pinned themselves onto your skirt.

“Good morning, Ms. (L/N). Turned rather... experimental this morning, have we?”

“P-Professor Byleth!” You bowed deeply, jumping when your books tumbled out of your grasp. “I am so, so sorry for being late! I’ve had the most horrendous morning...”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, when I woke up, i found my boots filled _to the brim_ with water.” You chucked the boot you were holding towards the door and yanked off the one you were wearing; about a quarter bootful of water came cascading out of the shoe.

“Then my uniform-- which was folded neatly and placed _on my desk_ the night before-- was thrown! Outside! Into some shrubs by my window!” You picked and plucked at the bits of foliage that accessorized your uniform with exasperation.

“And to top it all off, my hairbrush was missing! So I’ve been trying to comb my hair with my fingers, but that’s really hard to do when you’re holding a soggy boot in one hand and books in the other!”

You keeled over, wheezing, while the rest of the Blue Lions slowly turned their gaze to the two smiling girls in the front.

“That is... quite a tale.”

“Professor, I can _not_ make this up. I feel like somebody is targeting me. But why? What could Ihave _possibly_ done to deserve this?!”

“Nothing, (F/N). You’re right. What you went through was _severe_.” Byleth glanced down at two specific students sharply. “I will excuse your tardiness for today. Dimitri, please go help your new desk mate. I must start class immediately if we are to stay on schedule.”

“Of course, Professor...”

Oh no... Of all the... Since when did your class get a new seating chart? And why, of all people, were you placed beside ~~Dreamy Dimi~~ Dimitri?! Why was the Goddess punishing you? And for what?! You didn’t do anything! And now _he_ has to see you looking like _this_ for the rest of class? Why was life acting so cruel towards you?

“(F/N)?”

“Ah! D-Dimitri! Yes, hello!”

“Allow me to take your books to our desk.” He muttered politely, refusing to meet your gaze. Unable to say anything else without babbling like an idiot, you bowed gratefully to the prince as he scooped up your notes and books in his arms. Great! You were so disgusting, he couldn’t even look at you! Today was gonna be a long, long day...

Dimitri smoothed out the crinkled notes on your side of the row and his pupils happened upon a little scribble faintly scratched into the corner of the paper. The tips of his gloved fingers grazed the marking subconsciously, his brain not quite registering the ‘D’ drawn in the middle of a heart.

Color flooded your cheeks as you nabbed the paper away from Dimitri’s ‘prying’ eyes.

“Excuse me! I need that!”

“A-Ah. Of course. Forgive me.” Dimitri’s cognitive abilities had completely shut down, his entire being running solely on the etiquette lessons that were drilled into his head as a child.

Minutes ticked by, and Professor Byleth’s voice slowly joined the symphony of background noise. Neither you nor Dimitri processed a single word in class that day-- you huddling yourself into the closest semblance of a ball while Dimitri busied himself counting the specks on the floor in a vain, vain attempt to distract himself from the delightfully crisp apple notes that came from your hair (despite its... frazzled appearance).

The words that _did_ process, however, was Byleth’s resounding ‘Class dismissed’ and you had never been happier to leave a lecture. Without casting a glance at anyone, you shoveled your studies into your arms and sped-walked out the classroom and towards the safe confines of your room ~~to cry yourself to sleep.~~

But in your rush, a certain paper that was half-wedged between two books spiraled down, down, and further down. Dimitri’s watchful eye and skillful hand caught the piece of paper before it touched the ground and recognized the small, minimalist script as your handwriting. He looked up, eager to hand you your belonging, but...

“Er, Felix, have you seen (F/N)?”

“What? Did you not see her leave the classroom? I didn’t even get a chance to ask her to spar with me...”

“Well, she--” Dimitri choked on his own spit. “F-Felix--”

“What?”

Short, blubbering stammers made up a majority of Dimitri’s vernacular; Felix, growing impatient at the royal’s inability to form coherent thoughts, snapped the paper from Dimitri’s hand and read the contents.

“These are just notes on that battle formation we learned the other day.”

“No, there’s something on the corner up there...”

Felix’s sharp gaze followed Dimitri’s quivering finger.

“... Oh.”

“Fel, what’s up? You’re supposed to be training with (F/N) right now.”

“Sylvain. You take care of this.” Felix slapped the note into the redhead’s chest. “I’ll be by her quarters. When she finally decides to come out, I’ll ask her then.”

Then he was gone.

Sylvain, brows furrowed, unraveled the piece of paper that was so roughly shoved into him; his nose crinkled slightly.

“These are just notes.”

“The top...”

“Huh? What--... Ohhh. I see.” Sylvain’s light, angelic chortle didn’t mesh with the devilish smirk on his lips. “Your Highness, by any chance... Have you got an extra suit on you?”

“Hm? Well, yes, but it’s reserved for very special occasions.”

“Does a date with the girl of your dreams not fit that category?”

“... Allow me to show you where I keep it.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠ 

Like a sailor heaving up a heavy sail battered by the ocean’s rageful tempest, you slowly hoisted your eyelids open with unimaginable difficulty. It felt like a bag of lead was tied to your eyelashes, keeping your eyes at a constant state of half-opened. You padded the soft, swollen flesh around your eyes and already knew the puffiness was there to stay-- at least for the rest of the day.

Two short knocks peppered your door and you very nearly chucked the closest item in your vicinity at it. You caught yourself, however, and face-planted into your damp pillow.

Two short knocks peppered your door as you sunk your face further into your cushion.

Two short knocks peppered your door as your anguish turned to ire.

Two short knocks--

**_“WHAT?!”_ **

You had no memory of the actual journey from your bed to your door, but that didn’t matter much to you as you swung it open to face your grievance personified.

You caught Felix mid-knock and would have snapped his wrist if his knuckles dared to make contact with your door.

“What is it.” You croaked disdainfully.

“Wow. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Shut up. Just leave me alone.”

Your door was caught by your visitor’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Hang on. I... I’m sorry.” Felix swallowed thickly. “Today has been a pretty tough day for you.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Goodbye.”

“So,” Felix interjected, “spar with me.”

“What?”

“Let all your anger out on me. It’s not good to keep it inside.”

“That sounds strange, coming from you.”

“Trust me, it feels stranger saying it.” Felix grimaced. “Just... Please. Spar with me. Don’t let this fester inside you.”

He sounded almost pleadingly. A tiny portion of your heart swelled in gratitude towards the male; you stiffly wedged the door open. 

“... Fine.”

The corners of Felix’s lips twitched upwards as you both headed for the training grounds.

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

“We got the flowers!” Annette burst into the dining hall, waving the bouquet with glee. Mercedes shortly followed.

“I saw Felix and (F/N) head for the training grounds. He’ll keep her occupied for at least an hour or two.”

“Just enough time to roast a Faerhgus fowl.” Dedue commented, smiling slightly.

“Great! Well, I guess I’ll keep watch, so if you need me...” Sylvain slipped out of the dining hall and leaned his frame by the entrance, smiling and waving at passing females. 

“Oh, and remember Your Highness,” a spike of red popped back in, “don’t forget you still need to get changed.”

“Got it. Thank you, Sylvain.”

“(F/N) and I were on kitchen duty last week, and she mentioned she loves (Favorite Soup)! We can cook that as well.” Ashe’s eyes shone brightly.

“I can bake some sweets!” Mercedes chimed in.

“E-Everyone, I’m afraid my skills in the kitchen are... less than spectacular. I’m afraid I will only hinder your progress...” Dimitri took a hesitant step out of the kitchen as he watched his classmates get to work.

“Nonsense, Your Highness.” Dedue reassured as he picked out a fowl. “We will guide you. May you please wash and cut the potatoes?”

“O-Of course!” Dimitri dunked a handful of the starchy tubers into a bowl of cool water and made sure no speck of impurity remained on its surface. With Ashe’s saint-like patience and Dedue’s constant monitoring, the royal succeeded in cutting the lumpy veggie into nice, even cubes.

“Great job, Your Highness! Now, can you peel the carrots while I prepare the soup?”

“With pleasure, Ashe.”

Dimitri took the small blade in his hand and carefully skinned the carrots’ rough exterior away, revealing the healthy shade of orange underneath. Dimitri’s confidence grew with each slightly whittled but clean carrot he handed to Ashe and Dedue, and he was silently celebrating the fact that he hadn’t--

_... Crack!_

All eyes flashed to the source of the sound.

Dimitri stared at the large, compromising splinter running down the length of the knife’s wooden handle; he looked up slowly.

“Er... Is there, perhaps, another one that I can use?”

“A-Actually Your Highness,” Ashe laughed awkwardly, gently taking the ruined blade from his hand and leading him to the bowl of soup, “can you watch the soup and make sure it doesn’t burn or anything?”

“Y-Yes... Um, I apologize for--”

“Do not worry, Your Highness.” Dedue’s monotone voice rang clearly. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, but now the kitchen staff has one less knife to work with...”

“A problem that we can fix the next time we go to town.” Ingrid assured, finally breaking from her food-induced stupor. The savory scents of roasted duck interwove with the hearty notes of (Favorite Soup), creating a mouthwatering song that entranced the gourmand; the delicate, feathery hint of sweets that Mercedes was concocting complemented the deep, earthy tones set by the three males. 

“Would you like some, Ingrid?” Mercedes queried sweetly, holding up a small assortment of freshly baked goods. “I know how patiently you’ve been waiting for a sample.”

Ingrid almost lunged at the plate in the cleric’s hand.

“Y-Yes. Thank you, Mercedes. I am excited to taste your sweets.” Ingrid proceeded to not-so-graciously inhale half of the plate’s colorful contents.

“Ah! Ingrid, that was for everyone!”

“Oh!” Ingrid, mouth half-full with sweets, slammed the plate down on the table. “I-I am so sorry! I just, I got super excited and--”

“It is quite all right, Ingrid.” Dimitri replied, his eyes not leaving the softly boiling pot of liquid for a second. 

“Please do not look so upset, Ingrid. I can always bake more!” Mercedes gave the aspiring blonde knight a light squeeze. “When we’re done, I can bake you a whole tray of sweets!”

“That would be lovely.” Ingrid smiled, still slightly chewing. “Thank you, Mercedes.”

“Ah, Ashe, it’s boiling quite a lot now. I think the soup is done.”

“Not yet! I haven’t added any seasoning.” Ashe hummed thoughtfully. “Actually... Would you like to add them, Your Highness?”

“I believe a sense of taste would be necessary to accomplish such a task... I, unfortunately, have none.”

“Ah, well,” Ashe looked at the row of spices neatly spread out, “you can still try though! Ingrid can taste test the dish, and she can tell you what you need to add.”

“I suppose that can work... Ingrid--”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Dimitri and Ashe almost jumped at the closeness of her voice. Turning around, they saw the lass mere inches away from them with a childlike glow in her eyes.

“Ingrid, how did you--”

“I heard I was taste testing, so I came as soon as I could.”

The prince and archer shared glances with each other before the latter was called to assist Dedue. With a quick bow and a ‘good luck,’ Dimitri was left all alone save for a bubbling pot of soup and an overly-enthusiastic assistant.

“I think it would be wise for me to have a taste now so we can see what we still need to add.” Reported Ingrid dutifully.

“Ah, establishing a baseline. That’s a great idea.” Dimitri stepped out of the foodie’s way. 

Ingrid grabbed a ladle and scooped a humble amount in its trough before pouring it into a small bowl. Her lips caught the edge of the bowl and she slurped its contents. She hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip.

“It’s all right, but painfully average... We need more of everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Its flavors need to be boosted drastically. It’s not bland, just... underwhelming.”

“I see...” Dimitri cast a nervous glance at the row of spices. “I’m assuming these are the seasonings used to flavor the dish?”

“That is correct!” Piped Ashe from the oven.

“Let’s see here...” His hands danced over the vessels of flavor hesitantly. A bottle of fine, onyx-colored powder caught his eye and he checked the label-- black pepper. He popped open the cap and tapped a careful amount in. Ingrid stirred the pot and poured some more soup in her bowl.

“Mm, that added some much-needed flavor. Try salt this time.”

Dimitri gingerly set the pepper down and scoured the row of spices for the condiment. After he found the small bottle tucked away in the back, he unscrewed the lid and sprinkled in some salt.

“Add more. I can barely taste a difference.” Ingrid critiqued.

Dimitri did as he was told and sprinkled in some more, unsure of the intensity of the granulated whites.

“More, Your Highness. You can be a bit liberal with the salt here.”

“Got it.” Dimitri tilted the bottle and gently tapped its side.

Only for _half of the bottle’s_ contentsto fall in.

Dimitri blankly stared at the visible pile of salt floating on the surface of the soup, slowly disintegrating as it drifted further and further down to the bottom of the pot. 

Then he was tossed into the five stages of grief all at once-- Ingrid riding that emotionally tumultuous ride with him.

“Your Highness!”

“Ashe!”

“W-What?! What happened?!”

“The salt!” The blondes screamed in terror.

“S-Salt?! What do you--” Then he saw the bottle of salt, previously filled to the brim, staring back at him half-empty. Without a moment to lose, he broke through the two and beelined for the pot. He seized the ladle, scooped up its murky contents, and gave it a large swig.

His eyes shot open in horror and his face paled several sheets of white. He dropped the ladle, wetting the surrounding area with the toxic liquid, and stumbled back onto the counter. Gripping his pants until his knuckles turned as pasty as his cheeks, he forced down the soup with a gag.

“Water...” He flung himself onto the mortified prince, his eyes tearing up. “Water...!!!”

“I got you, Ashe!” Ingrid came swooping in with a cup of the aqua panacea; the archer snagged the cup from Ingrid and chugged it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

“What happened?” Dedue finally arrived, his head absolutely spinning from the pandemonium that ensued from across the kitchen. Mercedes came running as well, almost dropping the tray of freshly baked desserts from her hands.

“W-Well, His Highness--”

“It’s all my fault,” Dimitri stepped forward, head hung low, “I was only trying to add a little bit more salt, but then I ended up pouring half the bottle. Then Ashe went to taste it, and, well...”

All eyes went to Ashe, who was still recovering from that whole... experience. 

“It,” he sputtered,”it tastes like sea water.”

“Ashe, I am so, _so_ sorry. Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

“ ~~Get out of my kitchen~~ I-It’s all right, Your Highness... But um... I really don’t think we can serve this to (F/N). It tastes... unpleasant. _Very_ unpleasant.”

“I understand...” Dimitri sighed, forlornly looking at the pot of failure. “Curses! I’m sure (F/N) would have loved it, if only I--”

“Your Highness. There is no need to linger on what has come to pass. We can still cook up a wonderful meal.” Dedue’s even voice steadied the prince. “We do not have much time left. Let us make haste.”

It was all hands on-deck from thereon. While Ashe was temporarily out of commission, the rest of the Lions present did everything in their power to compensate for lost time and dish. As Dimitri busied himself with dicing and rinsing vegetables for a simple salad, everyone else was bouncing around ideas that could possibly substitute the soup.

“I was in town the other day, and I heard one of the merchants talk about this pastry called ‘garlic bread.’“ Annette remarked.

“‘Garlic bread?’“ The Duscur man repeated questioningly.

“Yeah! From what I remember it sounds very easy to make, and we seem to have all the ingredients.”

“And those are?”

“Hmm... Adrestian Butter, bread, powdered Gautier Cheese, powdered garlic, and dried parsley.”

As Annette recounted the [recipe](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.yourhomebasedmom.com%2Fquick-easy-garlic-bread%2F&t=YjhhNWY0ZGYzNjk2ZmUxZWZiZTI3MjYyZTg3ZDMxMjhiN2Y3ZWY5MSw4ZjBlOGRlNzg3NzY5MzU0YTZhNTc5ODcwNmYzODAyODM1MjYxYWFl&ts=1596935825) to the best of her abilities, Ashe wobbled back to the kitchen with a few of Mercedes’ samples popped in his mouth.

“If you need an extra hand, I’d be happy to help!” He turned to the healer. “And Mercedes, these taste absolutely delightful! Eating them makes me feel all re-energized.”

“I’m always happy to help!” She smiled sweetly, dunking and scrubbing away the dirt on some pots and pans. Dimitri’s eyes widened.

“Ashe, are you certain you’re okay? I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard...”

“I’ll be fine, Your Highness! And besides, Mercedes’ sweets completely washed away the taste of your soup! ... Er, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“... And then we just pop them in the oven, and wait until the edges turn brown.”

“How convenient.” Dedue’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m sure (F/N) and His Highness will like these.”

“They look quite scrumptious in there...” Ingrid licked her lips greedily. “Hopefully they don’t take too long... Hey, has anyone seen Sylvain? Last I heard he was on guard duty, but he could have run off with some girl at any time.”

“I’m still here,” called a voice from outside, “Ingrid, your lack of faith in me stings! Do you really think I’d be that calloused towards His Highness’s cause?”

“Yes.” Ingrid answered plainly.

“Yowch. That hurt.” Sylvain grimaced. “By the way Your Highness, we--”

. . .

“Sylvain?”

“You guys!” Sylvain came tumbling in, hysteria marring his smug features. “They’re coming!”

An unintelligible gurgle of surprise left the Lions’ throats and they drove to plate and add last minute details to their dishes. Dedue whipped out the duck and Ingrid the garlic bread, followed by a whole parade line of baked treats brought out by Annette and Ashe. Poor Mercedes, finishing up the last spoon in the sudsy basin, was suddenly bombarded with every plate, bowl, utensil, and pan in the kitchen-- not to mention The Pot of Poison. Dimitri set the wooden bowl that carried his salad on the table and he was instantly teleported away to a secluded section outside the dining hall. Sylvain carefully pulled out Dimitri’s finely decorated suit from under a brush, swatting away the little pebbles and specks of dirt that happened upon the fabric.

“It’s a good thing I kept the suit here. Imagine us running back to your quarters to change.”

“Thank you for thinking ahead, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s eyes flitted about him nervously. “I feel rather embarrassed changing out here in the open though...”

“We’re running out of time, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll, uh, cover you.”

Dimitri shot him a grateful look and threw off his cape, which Sylvain caught and held up in a weak attempt to cover his friend. Dimitri chucked off his gloves and shimmied out of his boots; he then lifted the hem of his shirt past his neck and made quick work of his pants, shuffling and kicking the fabric away from him.

“Oh Goddess, they’re coming down this way! Quick, hide!”

“What?! Where?!” 

“Uhh...!!!” Dimitri and Sylvain looked to and fro, their heart rate and cortisol levels reaching new heights. Behind the tree? No, the tree is hardly thick enough to cover the prince. The brush? Nah, it’s too small for a full grown man. No, no, he can’t run to the other side of the building, everyone will see his... parts. Sylvain pushed the bewildered Dimitri onto his knees, threw the tarp over him, and sat squarely on his back.

“Sylvain--?!”

“Hey hey hey, Fel and (Your Nickname)! Sooo, how was training?”

“Ah, well, y’know,” you answered back weakly, “tough.”

“Ah-hah! I see, I see!”

“Sylvain... What are you sitting on?” Felix’s eyes rested severely on the... quivering? ~~quivering why was it quivering~~ lump holding the male up. Sylvain looked down, then up, then down, then up, and chuckled nervously.

“Oh, y’know! It’s uh... It’s uh, a rock.”

“... A rock?”

“Yeah! Good ol’ rock here. Conveniently shaped too, y’know.” He patted something that felt a bit too round to just be Dimitri’s back; the two men quietly let out screams of the damned and Sylvain made a mental note to burn his hand off later.

“Huh... It does look quite comfy.” You mumbled, eyeing the spot where Sylvain just patted.

_Please don’t sit here please don’t sit here please don’t sit here plea--_

“Would you mind if I sat down for a bit?”

“Not at all.” Sylvain answered automatically, winking. It was in that moment that he truly regretted his playboy tendencies, and actually seriously considered change for a split second. 

“Great!” You skipped (more like limped) over to the silently screaming male(s). With a huff from you, Dimitri promptly felt something soft nestle into his rump; a portion of his soul disconnected from the mortal plane, never to be seen again.

“This... rock... feels kinda...” You shuffled in your ‘seat’ a bit. “soft.”

“A-A rock?! Soft?! Ha ha ha, don’t be silly, (F/N)!”

“And... This looks like Dimitri’s cape, does it not?”

“W-Why in the world would I have His Highness’s cape?”

“Well, that’s true... But, why would you put a piece of cloth on a rock like this?”

Sylvain just stopped working.

A good five seconds of silence ensued before the male finally found his tongue.

“Why _wouldn’t_ you put a piece of cloth on a rock?”

“Well, if it’s an attempt to make the rock more comfortable, wouldn’t it make more sense to just... sit on the grass instead?”

“I mean, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I _can’t_ spread a blanket on a rock for my own personal comfort, right?”

The throbbing in your head only worsened as you tried to comprehend this man’s logic.

“Um... sure.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go freshen myself up a bit before I head to dinner. See you later, Sylvain.”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Catch ya later!”

Sylvain waved you and the very confused Felix goodbye and eagerly watched you leave. After making sure that you two left and no one else was nearby, Sylvain slowly leaned over.

“Your Highness--”

Dimitri shot up like a man reborn, shocking the redhead off him and wheezing for air. 

“I couldn’t... B-Breathe...”

“Sorry about that, Your Highness...” Sylvain accidentally made eye contact with The Hand and he immediately gagged. “Let’s not...talk about what happened here. _Ever._ ”

“Agreed.”

Both men sighed deeply.

“Well, you heard her. She’s gonna freshen up a bit before she goes to dinner so there’s no rush now. ... Well, you’d still probably like to rush a bit, since you’re currently in your briefs.”

“Thanks, Sylvain.” Dimitri grumbled, slipping his achy legs into the high-quality fabric and buttoning up his shirt. He readjusted the crooked pins and small medals that adorned his breast and smoothed away any wrinkles.

“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Your Highness.” Sylvain chuckled. “Now we just gotta fix up your hair a bit.”

“My hair? It looks fine though, does it not?”

“Yeah, sure, it looks fine but that’s about it _._ C’mon, think about it! You wear the exact same hairstyle day in and day out. We gotta give it more of a ‘wow’ factor.” Sylvain’s brows furrowed deeply as he studied Dimitri’s face closely. “... Y’know, this might just work.”

“Huh? S-Sylvain, what are you--?”

“Trust me, Your Highness. (F/N)’s gonna love it!”

With a quick swipe of his hand, Sylvain flipped Dimitri’s bangs onto one side of his face. Sylvain took a step back and crossed his arms, satisfied.

“Woo, now _that’s_ a [prince](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4969621ad651ca17537de628a55ccc07/tumblr_nwv5x4nRoa1szfxauo2_1280.jpg)!” Sylvain whistled.

“D-Do I really look... princely?”

“Always have, buddy.” Sylvain threw an arm around Dimitri’s shoulder. “But right now? The princeliest of princes.”

Dimitri’s eyes crinkled happily and he bowed deeply to his dear friend.

“I thank you, Sylvain. From the bottom of my heart... thank you.”

“H-Hey now.” Sylvain laughed, cheeks reddening. “No need for all that! I’m just doing what I can to help you with this. You deserve to be happy, Deems.”

Dimitri smiled in response and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Ready, Your Highness?”

“Ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chaotic ride from beginning to end, will it finally come to meaningful fruition?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! well, this is it. the final chapter of operation confession. to be very honest, with everything going on it was quite difficult to write this, but i hope the quality is still relatively the same as my previous chapters! i had so much fun writing this series, and i hope reading it was just as entertaining! thank you so much for sticking with it-- it means the absolute world to me :)
> 
> this will prob be my last post for a bit before i head off to college; please rest assured i do not plan to leave this blog or this wonderful community anytime soon! thank you for being patient with me as i adjust to this very new chapter of my life!!
> 
> without further ado, please enjoy ch. 3!

“Hey, false alarm!” Sylvain traipsed back in, hands behind his head. “(F/N) and Felix are actually gonna freshen up a bit before heading to dinner.”

Groans and angry huffs spilled out of the frazzled Lions; the menacing stares that the redhead bore made him squeak, and he cleared his throat.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry! They ran into us while His Highness was changing--”

“While he was _changing?_ ” Dedue and Ingrid looked like they were about to have a stroke.

“I-It’s a long and,” Sylvain looked at The Hand, “painful story, but what’s important is that they didn’t see him! All thanks to Yours Truly.”

“You were a blubbering idiot. The only reason why (F/N) didn’t bother questioning you further was because she was too tired to care.” Felix joined in, the permanent scowl on his features deepening.

“Felix!” Sylvain’s countenance lit up joyfully before hazing into confusion. “Wait, I thought you were gonna freshen up before heading to dinner.”

“I don’t need to. Hardly broke a sweat during training.”

“W-What?! How?!”

“I guess you wouldn’t understand, seeing as how your only form of exercise is chasing after anything that wears a skirt.”

Sylvain’s eyes took on a glossy, hollow quality as the Lions hollered in laughter.

“Uh... So Sylvain, where’s His Highness?” Asked Annette, having expected him to walk in.

“Oh, he ran back to his quarters to put his clothes away. He should be coming back any minute now.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠ 

After neatly hanging his uniform in his closet and giving himself a quick once-over in the mirror, he gave himself one last pep talk before swinging the door open and--

Seeing the side of your head as you idly engaged in conversation with a fellow student.

Oh Sothis, help him.

As quickly (and loudly) as he opened the door, he closed it and promptly went back inside ~~to scream into his pillow.~~ Where in the world did you even come from? Weren’t you supposed to be ‘freshening up?’ Your quarters weren’t even down this hallway; what in the Goddess’s name were you even _doing_ here?

He pressed his ear further into the door, straining to pick up bits and pieces of your conversation in hopes to inform himself on your sudden visitation. Nothing. All he could hear was muffled banter bouncing between either of you-- muffled banter that didn’t sound like it was going to end any time soon. He screamed curses in his head and awkwardly slid down onto the floor, lightly banging his cranium against the solid wooden door.

He desperately wished for someone, anyone to save him.

He sighed while rubbing his temples-- a desperate attempt to quell the arising headache. Dimitri combed through his options, each less viable than the last. After eliminating any and all half-baked ideas of escape, he was face-to-face with the one option he didn’t want to consider.

Sit here and wait until you left.

So Dimitri sat (more like paced) in his room, occasionally pressing his ear against the door in hopes that he didn’t hear your lighthearted banter outside. Why was it the _one_ time he didn’t want to run into you, there you were! Right outside his door. You might as well have come with a giant bow on your head! 

The floor beneath him rumbled slightly, pulling him from his thoughts; the even pacing grew stronger and stronger until it stopped just a little ways past his door.

“(F/N).” 

Wait... That’s... It’s unmistakable! That has to be--!

“Dedue! Hello!”

“I apologize for the interruption, but I have come to remind you that it is your turn to tend to the greenhouse today.”

A short pause ensued, followed by an audible gasp.

“Wait, yes! You’re right! I’ve completely forgotten, thank you so much for reminding me!”

Dimitri heard muffled apologies and goodbyes sputter out of your lips, followed by light footsteps scurrying away. Your former companion proceeded to engage in very light talk with the Duscur man before quickly excusing themselves from the scene; Dedue, glancing down the hall to ensure that no one else was nearby, approached and gently rapped his lord’s door with calloused knuckles.

“Your Highness, you may come out now.”

The inner mechanisms of the door clicked softly, the hesitancy of the room’s occupant translating directly through the brass knob. 

“Oh, thank the Goddess you came, Dedue. Frankly, I had given up any hope of escape.” Dimitri rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

“I knew something was wrong when you did not return. I am glad that I came.” Dedue gave a curt bow.

“Thank you Dedue. Come. Let us head to the dining hall, shall we?”

“Of course, Your Highness. (F/N) should be preoccupied with her greenhouse duties for a time.”

“Yes... Actually, Dedue, how did you know it was (F/N)’s turn to tend to the greenhouse today?”

“Truthfully, Your Highness, I didn’t. It was pure luck she was scheduled today.”

“You mean--” Dimitri’s eyes widened.

“Yes. That was just a fluke. I have no knowledge of the schedule, other than the times either you or I are assigned.”

“Hah!” Dimitri’s hand landed on his retainer’s shoulder. “What luck! After hearing that, I can not help but feel a bit more confident about tonight.”

“And why is that, Your Highness?”

“If fate is as real as the ground beneath us, I would say that, perhaps, (F/N) and I are truly meant to be together.”

“That is quite a romantic notion, Your Highness.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Dimitri sighed as they crossed the threshold to the outside. The sun was just starting its descent past the hills; the slowly extinguishing rays of light brushed the sky with vibrant hues of vermilion and marigold.

“Despite that, I can not help but feel... hopeful. And... happy.”

“I am glad that this whole experience has collectively been a pleasant one, Your Highness.” Dedue responded as they neared the dining hall. “You deserve to be happy.”

Dedue’s words echoed in Dimitri’s head, ringing alongside Sylvain’s previous sentiment. Guilt wrung his heart until the familiar pangs of remorse pounded in his chest.

“Do I... Do I really deserve such a thing?”

“Without a doubt, Your Highness.”

“Even after everything that I’ve done... Even after... everything... I still... deserve it?”

“Of course, Your Highness. You deserve to be happy, just like everybody else.”

As the duo ascended the stairs and approached the Lions that were all congregated together for Dimitri’s cause, the prince’s features relaxed and-- just for a moment-- the voices that incessantly plagued his thoughts ceased.

“Thank you, Dedue.”

“I am always happy to help, Your Highness.” Like his prince, Dedue’s rough exterior melted away to reveal a warm, genuine smile.

“Hey, there you are!” Sylvain bounded up to them, meeting them halfway across the platform. “We were gettin’ worried about you! What happened?”

After Dimitri and Dedue explained what transpired, Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh at the ~~terrible~~ wonderful luck that Dimitri possessed.

"Dedue really got you out of a tough spot, huh?”

“As he always does.” Dimitri cast a grateful look at his retainer.

“I was shocked when I learned that (F/N) was actually scheduled today.”

“What were you gonna do if she wasn’t?” Sylvain queried.

Dedue paused thoughtfully.

“Perhaps I could have asked her to help me weed the courtyard, or to tend the horses.”

“Fair enough.” Sylvain nodded. “Well, it’s getting late so people are starting to leave the dining hall. Hopefully by the time (F/N) is done tending the plants, you two will be all alone.”

Sylvain wriggled his eyebrows and peered cheekily at the reddening face of the prince. 

“Please do not be so nervous, Your Highness. (F/N) will surely appreciate all the effort you had put in.”

“Yeah!” Sylvain propped an arm on Dimitri’s shoulder. “Remember what I told you, Your Highness? You’re the leader of the Blue Lions! Start actin’ like your namesake! You gotta be bold!”

“R-Right. Bold.” Truthfully, Dimitri looked anything but; however, this only prompted a deluge of much-needed encouragement and hype that the two happily supplied-- Sylvain taking a more... fiery approach to his psyching while Dedue slightly doused the ecstatic flames set by the redhead with more grounded assurances.

“Now remember, Your Highness. Look her in the eyes, smile, and tell her that she’s beautiful. Like this!” Sylvain turned to Dedue, who suddenly became an unwilling participant in the playboy’s example.

“Hey, babe. You look gorgeous tonight. I gotta admit, I’m no mathematician, but I can still see you’re a ten outta ten.”

“ ~~Please get away from me~~... Thank you, Sylvain.”

Dimitri stared at the duo with a ~~confused~~ fixed smile plastered on his face. The gears in his head took their sweet, sweet time to churn and process the cursed pick-up line, but it eventually clicked.

“Hah! I get it now! That’s a great one, Sylvain. I’ll definitely remember that.” 

A flush of pride stained Sylvain’s cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks! Oh, here’s another one. This one’s also super popular with the ladies.”

Sylvain cleared his throat and turned to Dedue, who was quietly trying to shuffle away.

“Hey, hun. Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” 

“If that is the case, perhaps it would be in your best interest to _stop looking at me_.” Dedue lightly glared. Dimitri’s eyes crinkled gleefully.

“Ah, these are all wonderful! I look forward to using them on (F/N).”

“Great! But remember Your Highness-- too much of a good thing is a bad thing. You can’t just spout a couple lines like that and expect her to fall for you instantly. You gotta do it tastefully.”

“Tastefully... Got it.”

Dimitri nodded his head, soaking and digesting this newfound knowledge. His eyes suddenly shot up, excitement bubbling out of its watery depths.

“Oh! It appears that I have come up with something!”

“Go for it, Your Highness!”

“I’ve got no taste, but I’d still like a bite of you.”

. . .

. . .

. . .

“Sylvain?”

. . .

. . .

“Dedue?”

. . .

“... Perhaps the map one wasn’t so terrible after all.”

“You said it, Dedue.”

“Wha--! Surely it wasn’t that atrocious, was it?”

“I believe it would serve His Highness well if you taught him more pick-up lines, Sylvain.”

“Sure. Whatever it takes to keep him from saying stuff like that.”

“H-Hey!!!”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

After sprinkling the few remaining drops of water onto a patch of slightly wilting plants, you dropped the empty watering can with a clatter and threw your arms high above your head, stretching all the bundles and ties that knotted in your shoulders. Your stomach gurgled and a pulse of hunger radiated throughout your core. Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea to completely skip your meals.

You placed the watering can in the shed and, making sure everything was as orderly as it could be, stalked out of the greenhouse while still massaging the few stubborn knots that remained tied in your muscles. The sun had long disappeared below the horizon; whatever light remained served only as a prelude to the beginnings of a starry night. 

A nippy breeze nibbled your exposed skin, contrasting the slightly humid atmosphere that you’ve grown accustomed to in the greenhouse. Teeth chattering and tummy churning, you hastened your feet to move faster to the brightly lit dining hall. 

As you approached the door, you were pleasantly surprised to see that the hall was practically empty, save for some guards and faculty sneaking in a nightly snack-- but even they didn’t linger for long. As you were racking your brain for ideas on what to eat, you walked into the warm building; the ambrosial aroma of succulent, roasted duck caught your attention immediately.

To say that you didn’t shed a small tear from the experience would be a lie.

You scouted and scoured the kitchen for the fowl of your dreams, but it eluded you. Where in the world could this duck--

“A-Ahem.”

You had come dangerously close to collapsing from shock.

Your body jumped and slowly turned around to face the owner of the voice.

“Good evening, (F/N). You look as radiant as ever.”

A young man wearing a white suit decorated with small pins and medals stood before you. Gloved, quivering fingers delicately brushed the lone strands of hair that slipped onto his forehead to the side. 

“D-Dimitri...? Is that you?”

“Ah y-yes, it is I. Please forgive me if I had surprised you.”

“N-Not at all!” You replied, your cognitive processes hiccuping at the sight of this magnificent angel. The light from the torch gently surrounded the prince with an almost ethereal quality, rendering him simply divine. The corner of his lips turned up slightly, pulling his handsome features into a half-smirk.

“Please, allow me to escort you to our table.”

“O-Okay...”

He took a step towards you and his eyes flickered down; you followed his gaze and saw his slightly shaking hand slowly reaching for yours.

“May I...?”

Whether it was a simple case of the jitters or the excitement bubbling from within, it didn’t matter much as you enthusiastically clasped your hand in his. Dimitri froze in place, every muscle in his being stiffening at that small point of contact. However, he managed to get his racing pulse (somewhat) under control-- just enough to pull you into a stiff walk at least.

“Please follow me, (F/N).”

The pounding in Dimitri’s heart found its way into his ears, drumming and thundering an aggressive beat. He never knew that fear and glee could intertwine so readily with one another-- until he felt your hand gently press into his palm. Worries and questions and warmth spurred his thoughts into a hazy flurry of emotion. Was he squeezing too hard? Was he holding your hand correctly? Were you at all uncomfortable? Oh Goddess, you look so beautiful when you smile like that--

“Ah! Dimitri, what is all this?”

“W-Well,” Dimitri swallowed what felt like a boulder, “it is our dinner.”

“Our... Dinner...?”

“Yes. Um...” His locked fingers reluctantly separated from yours. “We have prepared a roasted duck, a fine, savory pastry called ‘garlic bread,’ a simple salad, and baked sweets made by Mercedes. I pray this is enough to whet your appetite.”

“ ~~ _You_~~ ~~whet my appetite~~ Everything looks so good...” You swallowed thickly, eyes resting heavily on the succulent fowl. “Heh, well... I actually didn’t eat at all today, so--”

“I beg your pardon?!” You blinked and immediately found yourself sitting in front of the palatable entrees. Dimitri’s countenance-- full of concern and tinged with anger-- stared at you from across the sea of food.

“You mustn’t skip meals. That is terribly unhealthy for you.”

“You’re one to talk, Dimitri!” You laughed. “You skip meals all the time!”

Dimitri’s visage fell and his entire face took on all shades of red.

“I... admit, I am not one to berate you on this matter, but regardless, I ask that you still heed my warnings... You should never skip meals.”

Giggling to yourself, you rested your chin on folded hands and your head tilted slightly. That, combined with your killer smile and rosy cheeks, introduced Dimitri’s palpitating heart to a livelier pace.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do my best not to skip meals.”

“Urgh-- Yes! Please... don’t.”

Your lips curved into a smile and your eyes lustily darted to the food in front of you.

“Well, let’s dig in, shall we?”

You, of course, immediately reached for the duck-- as did Dimitri.

Your hands collided en route to the silver cutlery by the fowl, and a fountain of apologies spewed out of either of you. Dimitri, somehow managing to awkwardly bounce back from the innocent error, cleared his throat and took this opportunity to impress you with his... gentlemanly charms.

“Please excuse me, (F/N). Allow me to cut a slice for you.”

“Oh! Well, um... sure?”

Dimitri’s fingers rounded the shiny handles of the knife and fork before cutting into the tender meat. Delectable smells spilled forth from the bird, eliciting a growl from your stomach-- a... very, _very_ loud growl. A growl that was loud enough for Dimitri to stop and look up.

“Uh... I’d like to apologize...” You mumbled ashamedly, your cheeks growing hot to the touch.

Dimitri chuckled, slipping a thick slice of duck onto your plate along with a small bushel of salad, a few pieces of garlic bread, and some sweets.

“Do not worry, my Beloved. I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

You smiled, graciously accepting your plate filled to the brim with food. You cut the slice of meat into more manageab--

Wait...

**_‘Beloved?’_ **

It seemed that Dimitri realized his mistake around the same time you did.

“Dimitri--”

“Er, (F/N)! Aside from this morning, how was your day?”

“Huh? I-I mean it was fine, but Dimitri--”

“Ah, splendid! I am glad your day had gotten better. I was really worried when you suddenly left class like that.”

“Dimitri,” you cut in, “did you just call me... your... ‘Beloved?’“

Dimitri simply sat there as his brain was fried and shriveled into a crisp.

“W-Well, uh, I-- You see-- I deeply apologize for-- That was, very inappropriate of me--”

“Oh! No, no, it’s okay... Um, I was just a bit surprised is all.” You brought your cup to your lips in a pathetic attempt to cover the bashful grin that threatened to escape.

“Ah... Of course...” Dimitri stabbed a small tomato with the prongs of his fork and shoveled it into his mouth, his cheeks seeming to absorb the color of the little red berry.

You cleared your throat and thumbed the surface of a macaron with light fingers, a heavy silence blanketing the table. The quietly screaming royal took a bite of some garlic bread, his brain hardly processing the soft, fluffy texture of the dish. 

Dimitri’s eyes widened inconspicuously, his mind flashing to the one thing that could save this dumpster fire of a date from certain demise--

His pick-up lines.

He could only pray that you were a fan of such things.

He cleared his throat and borderline slammed his fists onto the table, rocking a handful of mini cupcakes from their tiered seats. You quite literally jumped in your seat and got caught in the fierce stare of your house leader.

He can do this. 

_Come on, Dimitri! Remember your training with Sylvain!_

He can do this.

_Be a lion! Be bold!_

He can do this!

“A-Are you ten? Because y-you look lost and I’d like to bite you.”

. . .

. . .

. . .

If-- in that moment-- Dimitri were to suddenly be thrown onto the path of a charging chariot, he would make no effort to move.

Simultaneously, you were well on your way to combusting into open flames-- if your swiftly coloring cheeks were any indication of that. 

Neither of you spoke for a long time, gawking at the other in a silent, unconscious contest to see who could reach strawberry red first. 

And Dimitri was the unwilling winner.

“I--”

“You--”

“I am so--”

“What did you--?”

“I am so, so sorry--”

“You want to _bite_ me--?”

“Oh Goddess, I am _so_ sorry (F/N)-- I can explain--”

“U-Um, perhaps it would be best for me to go...”

“Wait!” Dimitri shot out of his seat with a clatter. “I-- um--”

“Goodnight, Dimitri.”

You made a mad dash for the door, leaving the flustering royal a metaphoric fish out of water. 

“(F/N)!”

He tailed after you, the delicious food that he and all the other Lions labored to prepare becoming a distant memory.

The sun and any trace of it had all but vanished from sight, replaced by its nightly counterpart. You were speed walking to the stairs when your wrist was snagged by a firm grip.

"(F/N)...!”

“Dimitri, listen, I really appreciate the food and everything, but I really should get going now--”

“Wait, please! I...” He gulped, finally throwing caution to the wind. “I love you.”

Your heart had stopped beating altogether and your lungs ceased operations. Your clenched jaw prohibited you from speaking, and you simply stared at him as those three simple words resonated in your mind. 

“Er, that is to say...” He sighed, resignation taking hold of his features. “Can we... talk about this please?”

He loosely pointed to a nearby bench shaded under a tall tree. His hard grip softened, moving to interlace his fingers with yours as he led the two of you to the secluded spot. He sat with a deep exhale and pulled you beside him.

“(F/N).” He gazed at you steadily, his fingers rubbing shallow circles into your hands. “It is no exaggeration on my end to say that you mean everything to me. I-- along with the other Lions-- labored to make tonight the best it could be. Though truthfully, I never imagined my confession would turn out like this. But alas...”

Dimitri chuckled tiredly then sighed.

“I’m afraid I can’t hide my feelings for you a moment longer. I love you, (F/N). With all of my being. You motivate me to work harder, train harder-- to be a better man. You are so kind, and smart, and... absolutely mesmerizing. I can not keep my eyes off you, really.”

He laughed at your sheepish response then continued.

“You mean the world to me. So... I humbly ask that you... Um...” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “Be mine.”

A gentle breeze swept through, carrying his small plea along with it. He stared at you, intensely and unblinkingly, with bated breath.

“Although,” he added, pain thinly veiled in his eyes, “if you do not feel the same way, I understand. I promise I will not hold anything against you. If it’s not too much trouble, I... I hope we can still be friends after all this--”

You dove straight into Dimitri’s arms, effectively knocking his words and the air right out of him. You felt his muscles tighten and the thumping in his chest blared loudly in your ears. You nuzzled your face into him and looked up, smiling.

“I love you too, Dima!”

_D-Dima...?!_

Poor Dimitri looked like he was about to choke. The little streams of moonlight that slipped through the holes in the trees reflected off of the prince’s reddening face; for a long time, all he could do was stare at you-- cheeks darkening and eyes widening. 

Finally, the Goddess re-granted him the ability to speak.

“R-Really...?”

“Yes! Yes, I do!” Your arms moved from his torso to snake around his neck, pulling him a bit more to your level. “I love you, Dimitri. I’ve loved you for so long...”

You drew him into a hug again, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The crisp, sharp scent of his cologne flooded your senses, sending pleasant tingles and goosebumps throughout your body. You felt the prince’s arms wound around your frame, pulling you closer to his racing heart.

“If this is a dream, I wish to never wake.” He muttered into your hair, thankful that he could appreciate the light apple notes that came from it to the fullest.

“This isn’t a dream, Dimitri.” You whispered against his skin, causing a sweet shiver to run down his spine. “I love you, Dimitri. I love you so, so much...”

“My (F/N)... My Beloved...” He pulled away from you slightly, cupping your cheeks in his hands and brushing it gently. He could hardly contain all the love and pure adoration he held towards you; the way that you and only you reflected in his beautiful eyes showed that. With a gentle smile he pressed his forehead against yours, relishing the moment.

“May I... May I have the honor of kissing you, my love?”

His hot breath tickled your sensitive skin and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation, in addition to his endearingly adorable politeness.

“Yes, you may.”

Dimitri’s eyes flickered to your slightly parted, wet lips and leaned closer, his eyes fluttering shut. You followed suit, guided only by the synchronous beating of your hearts. A warmth like no other blossomed upon your lips, melting any and all tension into nothingness. Your lips engaged in a clumsy yet heartfelt dance, eliciting an airy chortle out of you.

Dimitri’s chest rumbled with a chuckle of his own and he parted to catch his breath. Not a moment later, his lips found yours again and again, more ravenous than the last. Each kiss left your head spinning faster and your heart wanting more, more, more. His teeth nibbled your bottom lip, drawing out a gasp from you; his fingers found residence in your hair as he slipped his hot tongue into your mouth. He explored your wet cavern excitedly, every one of his senses wracked with newfound pleasure. Your moans and sharp breaths intertwined heatedly, sending your thoughts into a frenzy and numbing oblivion all at once. 

The chatter of guards and metal boots clanking against cobble spurred warning bells in your head, and a painful reminder of how exposed you were for any curious passerby. Dimitri reluctantly leaned away, still pressing his lips to yours until the last possible moment.

“Ahem... M-My apologies... I got a little too excited just now...” Dimitri panted, a dazed yet elated expression on his face. You, panting as hard as he, shook your head in response and pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead, down to his nose, his cheek, and finally stopping at his flushed, pink lips.

“Not a problem, Dimitri. I know you mentioned you wanted to bite me.” You gazed at him teasingly.

“T-That’s...” Dimitri sighed, burying his face in your neck to hide his blush (though how hot his skin felt against yours was all the confirmation you needed). “Please don’t tell anyone what I said...”

You snickered and patted his head, smiling when you felt him relax into your touch.

“Okaaay, I promise.”

“Good. Thank you, (F/N).”

He pulled away from your neck and adjusted himself into a more comfortable seating position. He securely placed his arm around your shoulder and you both sat in comfortable silence for a long time. 

“It’s getting quite late, no?” Dimitri mumbled out of the blue. “Allow me to walk you back to your room.”

“Actually, Dima... Do you think we can go back and finish dinner? I’m still really hungry...”

“O-Oh! I have completely forgotten about that! Yes, of course we can. Although... Regrettably, our food would have gotten cold by now.”

“That’s okay. Being with you warms my heart anyways.”

“Ah-- Um--” Dimitri coughed, looking away. “I confess that your teasing will take some getting used to... But it is a pleasant thing nonetheless.”

You giggled as he stood up and helped you to your feet.

”Hey, Dimitri?”

“Yes, my Beloved?”

“I love you.”

Dimitri planted a soft kiss on your forehead and stared fondly into your eyes.

”I love you too, (F/N).”

_bonus: despite swearing to himself that he would *never* use pick-up lines ever again (its powers being too great for any mortal to fully wield), dimitri would still indulge a line or two for you if you asked him hard enough (and swore on your life you would never divulge what he shared with you to anyone else). and yes, when you two eventually got more comfortable with each other,_ ~~_he did get a bite of you from time-to-time but that’s a story for another day._ ~~


End file.
